I am proud to be able to share with you all this sample from my new book Merlin's Keep. Inspired by the name of a house in Kinsale in Cork. From this, the world of Merlin's Keep and its people grew. Enjoy the read.
On the leafy road to Bandon from Crookstown in Cork, there lay the ruins of a castle keep. This keep was as old as memory, and like it's history, there was never a time when the name of Merlin's Keep was unknown.
Merlin's Keep was built of rugged grey stone, with tall arched windows now bereft of glass, and gabled points still sharp although now held no roof. This Keep was steeped in roadside fable and the stories of its people abounded. This small unassuming building was the home of the McMelvins and stood on the very edge of a roaring river, with half its foundations reaching into the water as it flowed noisily and rapidly, meandering rapidly down the hill to the town. Every sweep of the river, every gush of the tide, lapped at the stu4rdy walls of the Keep. The river was the watering place of the Keep, the town and often the stop of the weary traveller and his horse. This water held its own secrets. It brought to the Keep the magic of the Mountain Elders, the power of the valley dwellers, the Valdeems. As the water seeped into the walls of the Keep, it stole their memories, it robbed them of a future hungrily taking what it could as it passed. In their place was magic.
Even to this time, on certain days, the passer by would stop and rest from their journey. They would slake their thirst in the cool water and then if they were lucky they could, with heart and ear, hear the sounds of battles past, the tinkling laughter echoing softly from the ruins amid the constantly rumbling water, tumbling over rocks and falls. Sounds rarely heard yet never forgotten. Sounds that meant the Keep was fought for. In the early morning light it had been said that that from the corner of the eye. the flash of wand fire could be seen reflected on the crest of the same white running water that gave them life, carried away their dead and wounded, the fallen, the invaders and defenders.
The story ran that the greatest of magicians walked these lands and fell in love with the site and he imbued the rocks that held up the Keep with old magic. For many, many years the Keep was the centre of of restoring the old customs, old magic, old ways. During this time the Keep enjoyed the company of witches and wizards who walked freely and happily through its hallways in the gracious company of the McMervins.
More to follow.
©️Lorraine Poulter 2016
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